


Once Upon a Dream

by SecretNerdPrincess



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Because who doesn't love Flynn & Lucy?, Fluff, Happy Ending, I just want to smile, Might as well write a fairytale, Probably some angst as well, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, We're all stuck inside, and I want you to smile too, garcy, let's be real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretNerdPrincess/pseuds/SecretNerdPrincess
Summary: Once upon a time...The fire in the chapel was only the beginning, Emma Whitmore won't stop until Lucy Cahill is dead and buried. And if that happens, Amtaisteal in the Kingdom of Tempus Minus will fall into Rittenhouse hands.Flynn can't let that happen, the people of Amtaisteal are under his protection. After five years of searching, he finally finds Lucy again, the woman who holds his heart, the key to protecting Amtaisteal.Lucy has no memory of Flynn. Will he be able to convince her to trust him again before it's too late?
Relationships: Denise Christopher/Michelle Christopher, Garcia Flynn & Lucy Preston, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Jessica Logan/Wyatt Logan, Lorena Flynn/Connor Mason, Rufus Carlin/Jiya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. In the Shadow of the Castle

Lucy fumbled awake, heart pounding, sheets tangled around her legs, sweat coating her body. She threw aside the covers and reached to tie back one of the heavy velvet curtains that surrounded her bed. As was her normal routine when she woke from one of the nightmares that left her shaken and lonely, she lit the candle on her nightstand, her feet finding her fur lined slippers on the floor, and made her way down the stairs to her sitting room. She crossed the space and grabbed her thick wool cloak, padding out of her bedroom, the candle, a small circle of light around her. Beams of moonlight from the windows sliced across the curving tower stairs as she descended, footsteps silent against the stone. 

The castle still slept, giving Lucy a peaceful hour before the bustle of the household demanded her attention. She tugged the hood of her cloak over her head and ducked into the servants’ hallway that led to the arched entrance tucked into the back of the castle. Leaving the candle on the ledge near the door, she changed into her winter boots and lifted the latch, slipping out into the freezing midwinter night. 

The air bit at her cheeks as she darted around the tower, stopping in the open yard to tilt her face to the sky. The pines around her home reached up to disappear into the night and she closed her eyes, snowflakes from the branches drifting down to settle on her lashes. Lucy stood in the silence until her fingers stiffened from the cold before jogging up the stairs to the village’s small stone chapel. 

The heavy wooden door creaked open, the warm space welcoming her. Candles hung in iron holders between the tall windows, a dim light spreading over the wooden pews. Her hood fell back as she sat, letting the lingering disquiet of the dream seep out of her bones. 

Ten years ago she almost drowned. Five years ago, she’d woken up in the tower bedroom, her memory wiped clean of everything after that horrible day. The last image, his eyes the color of the forest at dawn. The man who saved her. Fleeting. Five years chasing the memory as it feathered to dust in her mind. 

Once upon a time, Lucy Cahill remembered happiness. Now, she sought the chaos of her unconscious to catch glimpses of the world she’d forgotten. The candle flame flickered as she leaned her head back to rest on the wood. Entranced, she watched low flames dancing over the embers in the hearth beneath the old wooden cross at the head of the chapel, her eyes closing as sleep dragged her under and back into the nightmare. 

_The river battered her against another rock, knocking the wind from her lungs. She choked, gulping in water and air, trying to stay above the raging surface. Icy fingers clawed at her, pulling her under. Her bare feet slashed on the jagged bottom as she struggled for purchase. The undertow dragged her along, limbs numbing, leaden arms flailing for fallen branches, wet bark flaking away in her hands._

_Heavy, her body sank and she forced herself to shove off the bottom. Her head surged above the currents to see a dark-haired man running down the bank to dive in after her. She fought the rapids to keep him in view, but the cold of the spring runoff from the mountains weighed her down. The world dimmed as she cried for help and slipped into the darkness, her body limp._

_The dream fractured._

_The feeling of his arm around her torso._

_Dull round stones pressed into her back._

_Concern etched on his face bent over hers, dripping water, begging her to live._

_She lost herself in his eyes as they dissolved into the forest at daybreak. The sun, hot against her cheeks, shining through the trunks of the tall pines that surrounded her home. A sense of loss pervaded the end as she stood alone at the edge of a ridge, searching. Haunted._

Lucy choked awake, head swimming, covered in sweat. A banging boomed through the small space. Her gaze swung around to take in the flames spilling out of the hearth to envelop the altar and cross, licking up the tapestries to blacken the walls, eating away at the heavy wooden beams above her. She sucked in a panicked gulp that dimmed her sight and slid to her knees, gasping, eyes watering, trying desperately to get a clean breath of air. A crash sounded, the wood door shattering, splinters spraying the floor. Vision fading, she dragged herself to the end of the row as a tall, dark-haired man launched himself through the fire. 

“Lucy!” Garcia Flynn screamed, inhaling a mouthful of smoke, blinking back tears as he coughed, her small hand stretched on the stones in front of where she lay motionless. Frantic, he ran, diving to the floor to pull her into his lap. Brushing aside her damp bangs, he willed his heart to still, she needed him to focus. He’d been searching for her for so long, she couldn’t die when he’d only just found her. 

He lifted her limp body and rose from the ground, running through the falling embers. The wooden beams cracked above them and he arched his body over hers, lunging forward as the roof collapsed behind them. Cold winter air bit into his lungs as they crashed into the open, stumbling down the stairs. Flynn slammed to his knees, careful of the unconscious woman in his arms. 

“Lucy…” he begged her to live, running his thumb over her cheekbone, willing away the last five years. She looked thinner, dark circles under her sunken eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well, that much was obvious. He bent his lips to her forehead. She was back with him, safe again. She could come home now. 

Lucy struggled through the fog, familiar arms cradling her as she clawed to the surface, his face blurry as she opened her eyes. Shaking off the weight of the clinging dream, she realized she was in the arms of a stranger and scrambled to get free. “Who are you?” 

“I’m sorry, what?” He looked pained, but released her without a fight. 

Lucy skittered backwards, adrenalin screaming through her veins. Gathering her wits and manners, she pushed off the ground, unsteady. She tried to brush the ash off her tattered nightgown and gave up, realizing the futility. She tugged her cloak tight around her, shivering despite the fire raging behind them. “I should thank the man who saved my life.” 

“I don’t understand.” The man reached for her as if he expected her to fold herself into his arms. She shrank from his touch and he pulled back as if burned. “It’s Flynn…” He waited for her to react, to show some sign of the relief he felt. “Garcia.” 

Stepping back, she dipped in a small bow. “I don’t know you, sir, but I thank you and bless whatever mysterious hand guided you to me tonight.” 

“You know me,” he pleaded, heart breaking when she took another step back. “I’ve been searching for you for years.” The hope he’d harbored turned to dust. “Luc--” 

Behind them, the fire burned through the wood beam holding the church bell and it fell, smashing through the ceiling of the chapel. 

“I have to go!” Lucy started to turn, catching sight of the townspeople streaming up the hill towards the church, water sloshing over the sides of their buckets. 

He wrapped his long fingers around her forearm, an instinct he couldn’t tame. He needed to touch her, to know she was real. Not a dream. Every night he saved her and every morning he woke up alone. “You have to come with me. You’re in danger.” 

“This is my home. I am safer here than anywhere.” She glanced at his grip on her arm. “You will unhand me, sir.” 

“I apologize.” Regretful, he withdrew, staring at his empty hand. ”You have to understand--” 

“No, I don’t.” She cut him off. Her chapel was burning and she didn’t have time to waste. She tried to gentle her voice, “I am not the woman you’re looking for, I’m sorry.” The need to comfort him waved over her and she almost reached for him. “I hope you find her.” 

“Damn it, Lucy.” She ignored him and sprinted towards the well at the back of the castle. He called after her, desperate, “Do you think I don’t know my own wife?” 

She froze, heart hammering in her chest, and whirled around. She lashed out, confused by her body’s reaction to him. “I don’t know who you are, but I am not now, nor am I ever likely to be, married. If it is a reward you’ve come looking for, return when the sun is up and I’ll see that you’re well paid. If you’ll excuse me.” 

Lucy broke into a run and Flynn followed, ducking under the branches of the pines. “I don’t want your money,” he bit out, chasing despite his better judgement, knowing Carol’s minions wouldn’t be far behind him. “Someone just tried to burn you alive. I need to keep you safe.”

She reached the well and grabbed the handle, lowering the hanging bucket. “Enough. No one has tried to harm me. Likely, there is a simple explanation for the fire. Your grift has failed, sir. Leave now before you make me angry.” 

Her chin jutted up at him in defiance as it had so many times before. Gods, how he missed her. He would figure out what happened, how she lost her memory. Then he would make any responsible party rue the day they harmed her. For now, however, he would relish the feeling of standing by her side again. 

He reached for the bucket as it raised up over the ledge of the well. “Let me help you.” 

The fierce sprite of a woman slapped his hand away. “I don’t need--” 

“Your chapel is burning,” he begged, needing to do something, waiting hand stretched between them, “let me do this. Please.” 

It was too dark in the shadow of the castle to see his face clearly, but she felt his anguished distress and relented, nodding. Her grandmother would have told her to smile and say, “Thank you.”

Flynn jumped into action, helping Lucy organize the townspeople. They worked in tandem for the next hours, filling the buckets and passing them down the line to throw on the small stone building. They saved the bones, but the burned out shell lay open to the cloudless sky as the sun rose over the mountains. When she looked for him at the end, standing in front of the charred remains, he’d disappeared. 

She stepped over a pile of stones from the collapsed doorway and skirted around the bell embedded in the floor, wondering if she only dreamt the familiar stranger. The smell of charcoal overwhelmed her as she surveyed the destruction; the pews splintered beneath the heavy beams of the roof, the cross and altar reduced to ash, the glass in the windows gone, frames left like jagged talons reaching for heaven. Her arms curled around her stomach, holding in the grief. Confusion swept over her as her body remembered Flynn carrying her to safety and missed the feeling of his protection.

Was it possible he was a part of her missing years? 

“Lucy Cahill!” The sharp voice penetrated the surreal fog. She turned to see the Queen standing at the top of the stairs, face pinched in annoyance, beckoning her forward. “You will not be seen in public in such a state of undress.” 

She obeyed, but retorted, too tired to hold her tongue, “I had far more important things on my mind than the state of my dress, Mother.” 

“And you wonder why we’ve been unable to find you a husband.” Carol hauled her down the stairs and towards the castle. 

She pulled free of her mother’s clutches and smiled. “No, I don’t wonder that at all. If anything, I wonder that with all our family’s riches and standing, you have been unable to pay someone to take me off your hands.”

“This!” She glared at her daughter. “This is why you have been left here at the edge of nowhere.” Lucy opened her mouth to argue but the older woman grabbed her again and walked her into the castle. “You will go up to your room and change. Don’t come back down until you’ve made yourself presentable and then we will talk about your late night excursions. I will turn you into a lady if it’s the last thing I do. You will take your place at my side at Maternavis.”

Maternavis, the family castle. Built of nearly white marble with turrets and flags with the Rittenhouse Crest waving at the pinnacle. Lovely if you went in for that sort of thing, but Lucy preferred her much smaller castle, Vitanavis, tucked into the high mountains of the north. Her mother thought the place a punishment when she loved every inch of it. 

She trudged up the stairs to her sanctuary, the two story tower bedroom that looked out in every direction on the countryside. Mountains behind her, the tiny village of Alucinatio laid out in front of her. She reached up to run her fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf before curling into the window seat below, reeking of smoke and covered in soot, exhausted and weary. She followed the cobblestone streets winding down the side of the mountain, the dress shops next to the market turned into the blacksmith and the livery, the houses fanning out into the small valley nestled in the shelter of the surrounding mountains. 

Lucy wished her mother would leave her to the solitude of this simple life. Mrs. Denise never minded when she refused to bother with the normal frivolities of court life and all the attendant accoutrements. Master Mason couldn’t care less if she left her hair unbound. Curls and braids wouldn’t make her any smarter and she didn’t have to deal with the tension headache that resulted from all the pins and combs. She resisted the urge to climb the last set of stairs to her bed.

A quiet knock sounded at the door. “Miss Lucy?” 

“Come in, Jess.” 

The blond ducked her head into the room, apologizing, “The Queen sent me.” 

She didn’t bother to hide the tears that streaked down her cheeks. “I expected you.” 

“Oh, Luc…” Her best friend crossed the room and made to pull her into a hug. 

“Don’t.” She waved her off, gesturing to her torn and dirty nightgown. “I’m filthy.” 

Jess hugged her anyway. “You think I care about that? Are you okay?” 

“I could’ve died. Again.” Lucy sobbed, her entire body shaking, and the blond’s arms tightened around her as the realization flooded her body. Flashes of waking up trapped by fire ricocheted, terrorizing her again. Fear rushed through her and she buried her face in Jess’ neck, her friend’s hand rubbing circles over her back. The image of Flynn crashing through the door banished the flames and she took a deep breath, focusing on memory of his face, drawn by a familiarity she didn’t understand. 

Jess pulled back, brushing strands of her hair away from her cheeks. “Better?” 

Nodding, she took another breath. “He saved me.” 

“Who?” Jess crossed to fill the water basin, grabbing a washcloth and wetting a corner of it. 

Lucy moved to the chair in front of her vanity, letting her friend clean the sooty streaks from her face. “Garcia Flynn.” 

Her friend stiffened. “Who’s that?” 

“Maybe I should be asking you that question.” She took the washcloth and watched as her friend morphed into her maid. 

“Your bath is almost ready, the water will be finished warming shortly.” Jess moved to the large armoire, opening the doors and sorting through the dresses to choose a long sleeved rose colored gown with intricate stitching that started as deep burgundy flowers at her left shoulder winding around her waist and drifting down the skirt as falling petals. 

“Jess?” Lucy stayed seated, waiting. 

She hung the dress over the back of the door, shoulders slumping. “I’m not supposed to...” 

“You’re not supposed to what?” She rose, crossing to turn the woman to face her. “This is my life. You have to tell me what you know.”

“You have to understand. She said it was to protect you.”

“Who?” Lucy asked, her voice a cracked whisper, and stumbled back into the chair. 

“One morning, a few days after you left for Vitanavis, your mother sent for me. I had no idea what happened to you. The Queen kept me busy so you and I had grown apart, but I still saw you from time to time.” Lucy started to deny it, but Jess crouched down, taking her hand. “We both knew what your mother was doing. She wanted you to accept your place. The old stablemaster’s daughter didn’t figure into that. That’s not important. I didn’t need to see you every day to know you’d fallen in love.” 

“With him?” Lucy asked, knowing the answer, unsure if she wanted the confirmation. Her life had been thrown into chaos in the span of a morning and she was caught up in the whirlwind. 

Jess nodded. “You mentioned Flynn from time to time with fondness and respect, not to mention a healthy dose of giddiness. Your mother asked me how much I knew about the two of you and I answered honestly that I didn’t know much. Just that you seemed happier than I remembered you being in a long time. Then she asked me what I’d do to keep you safe.”

“What did she want you to do?” She held her breath, petrified her oldest friend had betrayed her. As much as it hurt, it didn’t surprise her that her mother needed to control the situation. But if she lost Jess...

“She told me there’d been an accident that erased five years of your life. Said that if you remembered even one minute of those years, your brain would fracture. Something about how the doctors fixed your brain after the injury. I didn’t quite understand, but your mother was quite insistent and I had no reason to doubt her.” 

The blond watched Lucy for any sign that what Carol told her had been true. She just looked like her friend, lost, sad, and desperate for answers. 

“Anyway, you’d asked for me to come and stay with you here, but I had to promise never to mention anything about your missing time.” Guilt washed over her. She felt like she’d let Lucy down by not realizing any of this sooner. She never imagined the Queen would go this far. “But if you saw him again and you’re still standing here, it means she lied to me.” 

The truth settled over Lucy as the pieces fell into place. “I remember waking up in Vitanavis, my mother at my bedside. She told me that I’d been in a carriage accident. That I hit my head, but didn’t suffer any broken bones. I assumed I had been lucky. But I don’t remember any of it. The accident. My supposed recuperation.” She looked at Jess and saw the pity in her eyes. “I wasn’t lucky, was I?”

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“The last thing I remember was almost drowning. The doctors said they thought my brain reset to the previous trauma because of the imprint it left behind. But if it wasn’t a carriage accident, then how did I lose my memory?” Lucy didn’t want to believe the worst of her mother, but she couldn’t hide from the truth. “Why would she lie to me?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Jess crossed back to the armoire, picking up the dress she’d chosen. “But if she knows how it didn’t happen, it seems likely she knows how it did happen.”

The woman who raised her was hiding whatever she knew about the connection between Lucy and Flynn. About those lost five years of her life. She needed more information, but couldn’t come right out and ask the one person who had answers, couldn’t risk letting her mother know that Jess had come clean. Who knew how far Carol Cahill would go to keep her secrets. 

“Well, I know more now than I did yesterday. My mother is lying to me and it has something to do with Garcia Flynn.” She wanted to crawl back into bed. It wasn’t even midday, and it already felt like the sun should be setting. “I want my life back. I want to know what I lost.”

Jess bent down to give her a quick half hug then tugged her to her feet. “Nothing’s going to be solved by sitting in that filthy nightgown. The water should be hot now, I’ll just finish filling the tub for you.”

Lucy watched her friend gather the things for her bath. “You know you don’t need to do this for me. I am quite capable of getting myself ready as you well know.” 

“Your mother…” Jess shrugged, heading towards the bathing room and pausing at the top of the few stairs that curved down half a level. “It’s better to do as she wishes. She’s not a woman you want as an enemy.” 

She hated everything about this situation. “You know I won’t ever think of you as a servant. You’re like a sister to me.”

The two girls grew up together, playing in the river that ran through the forest behind the grand lawn where her mother hosted glittering parties. How many nights had they watched the swirling couples from their hiding spot in the tall bushes that lined the terrace, mesmerized by the dazzling ball gowns? 

As they’d grown older though, her mother separated them, relegating Jess to the status of servant. It’s half the reason she’d requested her oldest friend’s presence at her side. She hated to think of her scrubbing castle floors under the watchful eye of the Rittenhouse Matriarch. Her mother grudgingly agreed to send Jess as her Lady’s Maid. Even in the sparsely populated North, a Cahill daughter had sartorial standards to uphold. 

When Carol Cahill was not in residence, though, the two girls lived as equals. 

With her mother’s _kindness_ , as she called it, came the insistence that Lucy act like she belonged among the aristocracy. It was time to put aside childish things and she was expected to live up to her Rittenhouse ancestors. Her family had ruled the kingdom of Tempus Minus for a thousand years and would for a thousand more if her father King Benjamin had anything to say about it. And he often did. 

“No reason to fret over things we can’t control.” Jess shrugged and disappeared around the curve. 

Lucy gave in, knowing if she didn’t get a move on, her mother would barge in and demand all her attention with a lecture on appropriate behavior. “She’ll be gone soon enough.” 

“Unless she’s come to drag you back to Court,” the blond’s voice floated up from the other room. 

“You hush your mouth.” Lucy jogged down the stairs, stopping on the bottom to lean against the wall, teasing, “Or I’ll send _you_ back to Court.” 

Jess’ mock gasp brought a smile to her face. “You wouldn’t dare. You’d miss me too much.” 

“You never know,” she joked back as Jess poured the last pot of steaming water into the tub.

She kicked off her muddy boots, the stone floor cold against her bare feet. “You wouldn’t. Your mother might send Emma in my place.” 

Lucy shivered, imagining the redhead walking the streets of her little town. “Take it back.” 

“You’d better treat me right or I’ll request the transfer.” Jess laughed, a joyful, free sound, and changed the subject. “Should I let the students know you’ll need a few days off?” 

She groaned in defeat. Her mother would never allow her to gather a bunch of _dirty, grubby, disease-laden children_ in the castle for their usual lessons. She could imagine her mother’s condescending response already. If Lucy wanted to teach, she could do so at Sta’in Vadum, the preeminent university in Tempus Minus. Teaching filthy commoners was below a Daughter of Rittenhouse. 

“Yes, I suppose that will have to happen,” she sighed. She enjoyed the time with her kids. 

Jess hung the cast iron pot back on the hook above the fire in the hearth that warmed the small room. She grabbed Lucy’s hand as they passed each other. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. We’ll get your memories back somehow.” She squeezed her hand one last time and started for the stairs. “I’ll leave you to it then.” 

“Thanks, Jess.” 

Untying her ruined shift, it slipped to the floor, pooling around her feet. Lucy let the silence wash over her, standing there until goosebumps ran over her skin. She finally stepped into the tub, lowering her body and ducking under the water, the warmth seeping into her bones. Steam covered the small windows that looked out onto the pines as she washed her hair, turning over the problem of her mother in her mind. Why had she lied? What was the truth about her accident? And what about Garcia Flynn? Jess said she thought Lucy was in love with him. Had something happened between them that made him a danger? Was her mother lying to protect her? 

Flynn didn’t feel dangerous when he saved her from the fire. But maybe that was part of his plan. Who’s to say he didn’t set the fire himself so that he could arrange to “save her life,” indebting her to him. He had come out of nowhere. In the middle of the night nonetheless. She couldn’t trust him. Not without her memories. Just because her body felt like it remembered him didn’t mean anything. It could be nothing more than residual attraction. 

No, she’d bide her time, make some discreet inquiries on her own. See if her mother asked about Garcia’s reappearance in her life. She might not know. Lucy hadn’t seen her mother until Carol came to drag her back to the castle and by then, Flynn had already disappeared. But he said they were married. That he had been searching for her for years. He didn’t seem like a man who gave up without a fight. 

She knew one thing for certain, Garcia Flynn would find her again.

***

Garcia Flynn melted into the trees, enveloped by the thick woods covering the side of the mountain. He paused, crouching down across the way from where Lucy curled into one of the windows of the tower looking out over the town. She leaned against the frame, her face desolate. He didn’t need to see her tears to know they streaked down her face. He wanted to race to her side, wrapping her in the shelter of his body. Wanted to take her home.

Their rooms felt hollow without her scattering of books across every surface, without her laughter echoing off the walls. He couldn’t return another time without her. For the past five years he followed every rumor, evading Emma and Wyatt and the Queensguard, while keeping the secret of Amtaisteal from those who would seek to destroy it. Now that he’d found her, he refused to let her go.

Standing, he moved his hands with practiced ease, placing a simple shield around the castle that would alert him to anyone who crossed through with ill intent. 

_I_ _n ainm na gréine, na gealaí, agus na réaltaí._ _Coinnigh slán_ _géarchúisí_ _léiriú._

It wouldn’t stop an attack, but he’d find a place to make his camp where he could keep the castle in view. Anyone who tried to harm her would find themselves on the receiving end of his wrath. Flynn would’ve done more, but any higher magick would’ve alerted the Queen to his presence.

Carol Cahill had hidden her daughter well. The cloaking spell made the small town of Alucinatio impossible to find without knowing the location of the single entrance and the spell to unlock the door. He’d lain in wait, insinuating himself into the market pitched at the base of the wall around Maternavis for three weeks before he finally caught Emma alone and planted the tracker spell on her. Another six months passed before she led him here. The doorway closed too quickly for him to follow the first time and he tried every spell he could think of trying to unlock it without success. For seven weeks he’d lived in the cave above the doorway, waiting for the mimicry spell on the conch shell he’d placed there to activate. 

Lucy disappeared from her perch and his heart lurched in his chest. It tore at him to stay motionless waiting for her to reappear, assuring himself he hadn’t lost her again. Time stretched out endlessly as he scanned the castle for another glimpse. Movement on a lower level drew his eyes to a line of small windows. Flynn crept closer, hunkering down in the snow, and saw her again. 

Steam covered the glass leaving only the outline of her body glowing in the light of the hearth. He couldn’t look away from her graceful curves as she let her shift fall to the floor. He knew he should. No matter their history, she didn’t remember him. He closed his eyes, seeking the solace of their nights spent whispering desire and making plans for their future together. Instead, he saw the flames surrounding her as she lay motionless on the floor of the chapel. He’d almost lost her. Had he found her even a minute later…

He banished the thought. Flynn didn’t know why Emma hated Lucy so much and he didn’t care. She’d tried to kill his wife and would pay for her transgressions. Lucy might’ve started her life in Maternavis, but she belonged at Amtaisteal, protecting their people. The community missed her. Iris asked him daily when she was coming home and Lorena just looked at him with pity, seeing the loneliness he tried to hide. After his brother’s death in the war, Flynn brought her and his niece into his home, caring for them as if they were his own.

Lorena had been there the day he brought Lucy home and watched over the years as they fell in love and married. At first, Lorena didn’t trust the daughter of the Queen and heir to the Rittenhouse throne. It wasn’t until the day Lucy risked her life to save Iris that Lorena finally accepted her. They’d become a family, but when he’d lost Lucy, he retreated into himself. Taking all the blame for her disappearance. 

He rose from the snow-covered ground and backed away, slowly, reticent to leave her. If the Queen hadn’t shown up, he would’ve tried harder to get her to come back home with him. But Carol would have the Queensguard portalling in before he could escape with Lucy and would likely move her daughter to another castle. He loathed the idea of starting his search again. Especially knowing she had no memory of their life together. 

Flynn’s heart ached as he turned, jogging up the incline of the mountain before he could give in to his desire to storm the castle, stealing her away. She never reacted well to being forced to do anything. He’d find her again when she was alone and help her to remember. When he returned to Amtaisteal, it would be with his wife by his side. 

  
  



	2. A Tease of Yesterday

Lucy pulled out a chair from the wide butcher’s table in the center of the kitchen. She loved spending her mornings here with Mrs. Denise, the dried herbs hanging from the rafters, racks of spices neatly lining the wall above the sink, the homey smells of eggs and bacon. 

She handed Lucy a cup of dark, rich coffee and grabbed her elbow, pulling her back up to steer her towards the breakfast room. “Not today, missy. Your mother awaits you.” 

“Are you sure you don’t need me to run down to the market? It looks like you might be low on…” She sipped, scanning the countertops for an excuse. “On...ummm, garlic.” Mrs. Denise reached into a hanging basket for a handful of cloves. Lucy flailed for any excuse. “Squash. I don’t see any squash.” 

“You don’t like squash.” The older woman chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re scared to face your mother.” 

She groaned. “Ugh, no. Just trying to put it off as long as possible. Lord knows what she wants this time.”

“Well, whatever it is, you won’t figure it out by hiding beneath my skirt.” She nudged her in the direction of the door. “Now, scoot.” 

Sighing, Lucy took another sip of coffee and headed down the long hallway, her royal title weighing down each trudging step. Being Princess and Heir Apparent meant that her mother and father held the reins on her life; she would never be in charge of her own future.

The bottom of the chiffon dress whispered against her ankles as she entered the room where her mother sat at the head of the long carved pine table, hands folded in her lap, food untouched before her. 

“Sit,” the Queen commanded, not an ounce of maternal feeling. “I have yet to break my fast this day and it is nearly the noon hour.”

Mr. Bruhl pulled out the chair at the opposite end and Lucy dropped into it, exhausted and lacking patience. “What _are_ you doing here?” 

With a flick of a starched white cloth napkin, her mother ignored her question. “I hope these are not the normal workings of your household. This meal should have been waiting when I first arrived.” 

“How were we to know of your visit when you showed up unannounced?” Lucy picked up her fork and knife and sliced into her egg, the yolk puddling in the dam of her bacon and fried potatoes. She smothered a smile when her mother choked on a bit of toast, but adopted a conciliatory tone. “I apologize, we were a bit busy this morning putting out the fire.” 

Carol placed her knife carefully on the side of her plate. “Yes. You were. Why was that?” 

“Why was I helping to put out the fire?” She felt the Queen’s glare down the length of the table. 

“In your chemise.” She paused until Lucy raised her eyes to meet hers. “You were obviously outside of the castle at night. Again. We’ve spoken of this before. Your behavior is unacceptable.”

She bit back a retort. Whatever her mother wanted, it would be far easier to find out if she appeared to acquiesce rather than arguing. “Again, my apologies. I will endeavor to do better next time.” 

“See that you do.” Picking up her knife and making a tiny, precise slice in her bacon, she continued, “Now, about the reason for my visit. Your father has entered into negotiations for your hand in marriage.” 

It was Lucy’s turn to choke and she grabbed for her coffee. “Excuse me? I must have misheard you.” 

It’s not that she was surprised her parents were _still_ trying to find her a husband. She’d always known the time would come for her to take over the Kingdom and she accepted that duty. However, she made it very clear she would not play brood mare to their royal desires. Lucy Cahill had no need of a King who would think to control her decisions simply because he was her husband. She wanted a partner who loved her for her quirks not because she was the future Queen of Tempus Minus. Her thoughts drifted to Flynn’s declaration and she shook off the weakness. She could not allow herself the distraction. 

The Queen continued as if Lucy hadn’t spoken at all. “Prince Noah Agassi from the Kingdom of Gemma de Tempus. His family rule spans ten generations. Their land begins at the white sand beaches of the Abyssus Perpetuus Caeruleum and continues until it meets the forest at the edge of the Oblivio ex Mountibus. They are responsible for building--” 

She cut her off. “The Temple Memento and the Amphitheater at Agade. Yes, I am very aware of the history of our world. What do you think you’re doing? We have spoken of this. I will not marry to secure a bloodline. I will marry who I wish, when I wish it, and not a moment before.” 

A fork scraped against the plate at the other end of the table, the only sign of her mother’s irritation. “You are my daughter and you will do as you are told. Your father and I have suffered your progressive ideals thinking you would outgrow them. Perhaps, we have coddled you too much. Nevertheless, it is past time for you to accept your responsibilities.”

“I have listened to you in all else. I will not allow this.” Lucy tried to stand firm, fearing, in the end, she would do as told. 

The Queen dabbed her lips and carefully folded her napkin, placing it to the side. “Enough.” She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t need to, her mother’s word once uttered was law. “A fortnight from now, during the Feast of Saturnalia, we shall announce the engagement. You will marry on the Solstice after the week of celebrations.”

“I will not.” 

Of course she was ignored. When had her parents ever listened to her? “I will send men for your things a week hence. I suggest you begin your preparations to leave Vitanavis.” 

Her mother rose from her seat while Lucy sat frozen, seeing her life quite clearly. It had never been about her convalescence or her punishment. Never been about her coming into her own or any of the other falsehoods they’d told her over the years. It had been about one thing. Control. They allowed her the illusion of freedom, able to change nothing, to affect nothing. 

Even as the sadness cascaded over her, something butterflied In the back of her mind. A tickle of remembrance, teasing yesterday. She tried to tug it into her conscious mind, but it flittered just out of her grasp. 

“Are you listening to me?” 

“Yes, Mother.” She sighed, pushing away her plate, head dropping into her hands. 

The older woman closed the distance between them and slid into the chair on her left, gathering one hand in hers. Her face softened. “Lucy, you have to understand, this is what’s best. I speak from experience. Your father was not my first choice. I loved a man once when I was very young. It was foolish. And my mother sat down with me, much as I am doing with you right now, to explain that it is not our place to question the traditions of our elders. Tempus Minus exists because of the strict adherence to those traditions. Without them, the world dissolves into chaos. We keep the peace of our society through structure.”

“But I want…” 

“What you want matters little.” Lucy pulled her hand away. Her mother remained unfazed. “As what I wanted did not matter. I married your father and united our Kingdoms for the good of both our families.” She stood and Bruhl pulled the chair out of her way. “You will do the same.” 

There she was, the Queen who cloaked herself in secrets. Lucy’s life was tangled in them; they clung, talons clawing at her. Digging in even as she tried to free herself. “Remind me again, what happened after the accident? Before I came to Vitanavis.” 

“I’ve told you.” She spun on her heel, crossing to sweep out of the room.

Lucy shoved away from the table, chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “You told me only that I was in a carriage accident that caused damage to my brain. How did it happen? Where? Was I alone?” 

The air between them thickened with sparks, her mother’s temper just under the surface. “None of this matters, Lucinda Rose.” 

“It matters to me.” Her patience snapped. How many times had she allowed her parents to dismiss her questions? No longer. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” 

The Queen’s fingers encircled the high-backed chair in front of her. “I would save you this pain.” 

“You are not saving me from anything.” Lucy came around the table, blinking away the angry tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I deserve the truth.” 

Her mother sighed, turning, and tended to a stray wisp of hair that escaped Lucy’s braids. “It is nothing more than you would do for your own daughter. Forgive me the deception.” A single tear shone in the corner of her eye, but did not fall. She paused, as if finding the right words. “There was a man. I don’t know where or how you met, but he began courting you. Your father and I worried, but you refused to listen.” 

“What happened?” Lucy held her breath, hungry for the truth. 

“Are you sure you want to know? Some memories are best left in the past where they can no longer harm us.” 

She gripped her mother’s hand. “I do. The need for answers has plagued me for years.” 

“Very well.” The Queen inhaled deeply. “He became obsessed with you. When you ended the relationship, he became enraged. He infiltrated the castle during Beltane, intent on abducting you. The Guard foiled the attempt, but not before he threw you down the stairs to aid in his escape.” 

Suspicion crept in reminding Lucy her parents had lied to her for years. Why tell the truth now? “I fell down a flight of stairs and didn’t break a bone?” She pulled her hand from her mother’s and folded her arms over her chest. “That seems unlikely.” 

“You were lucky my men were there. They broke your fall, but not before your head slammed off the banister. When you regained consciousness, you had no memory of the event or the years before it. Maybe it was wrong of us, but we accepted it as a gift. There was no need for you to remember such a trauma, you’d already suffered so much in your life.” The Queen smoothed her dark green damask gown, looking anywhere but at her daughter. “We thought it easier on you.” 

She stepped back, rubbing her temples, taking it in. Garcia Flynn had been a danger to her. Still was, more than likely, if what her mother told her was true. But that begged the question. Could she trust the regal woman standing in front of her?

“Was he ever found?” Lucy knew the answer and waited to see how much her mother would reveal. 

“No. He evaded capture these past five years.” 

“This is why you sent me to Vitanavis?” she asked, even though she knew it was more than that. Her parents never had only one reason for doing anything. Her mother nodded her assent. “Why is it safe for me to go back now?” 

The Queen gestured for Mr. Bruhl to bring her ermine wrap. “The marriage your father arranged is important. After the wedding, Noah will take you to Gemma de Tempus and there you will stay until the criminal is brought to custody. He will keep you safe until that point.”

They were marrying her off and sending her away across the sea. Getting her as far from Garcia Flynn as they could. That didn’t feel like coincidence. 

Lucy wondered how far she could push, how many secrets she could uncover. She threw caution to the wind. “What was his name?” 

Her mother wrapped herself in fur. “Why is this information necessary?” 

“I think I should know the man who almost killed me, don’t you? Without my memories, I am at a disadvantage.” Lucy schooled her face into a cool mask. 

“I will tell you this one last thing. After this, you may consider the conversation permanently closed.” Carol peered at her over her shoulder. “His name was Garcia Flynn.”

What was the truth? Was he the man willing to discard love, fleeing to save himself? Jessica said she’d been happy. Had their love soured under the weight of his obsession or had that happiness been a ruse?

Garcia Flynn battled the flames to save her life, without him she wouldn’t be standing here. If he meant her harm, surely it would have been easier to leave her to die in the fire. Maybe it was simply she wanted to believe his story of a man willing to go to the ends of the earth to find the woman he loved. 

She appealed to the young woman her mother had been. “Please. There is no reason to marry me off to the highest bidder. Just because it’s been done this way for centuries doesn’t mean it should continue this way. Let me do what you could not. Let me marry for love.” 

Lucy knew she was begging, but she wasn’t ready to leave her small castle in the mountains. Had no desire to go back to Court with all its ostentatious finery. She dreamed of finding love one day. If she returned to Maternavis, her last opportunity would evaporate. In marrying Prince Agassi, she would become nothing more than a marionette, a pretty poppet to smile and wave and plan parties. It’s not what she wanted for her life. She wanted an equal, someone to help her change the world.

The Queen ended the conversation and swept out of the room. “You will stop this foolishness.” 

***

Lucy let the rushing plod of the horse’s hooves reverberate through her body as she raced across the snowy field. Shaking her bones as a reminder that she was an actual physical person outside of her parents’ manipulations. 

Her mother had out maneuvered her again and there was nothing to be done about it. She could run, but to where? She had no friends unconnected to her family. She had Jess, but even her best friend’s life was completely intertwined with the Cahill’s. She couldn’t drag her into that madness. If they were caught, her parents would hang Jess in the Square and pike her head as a warning to anyone else that dared attempt such treason. 

Instead, she rode into the first flakes of the oncoming storm, a brisk kiss of winter stinging across her cheeks. She’d rather be out in the middle of summer, riding through fields of wildflowers and gentle, meandering streams. Alas, she only had one week left. One week of freedom and then she’d be sold off and shuffled away to a foreign land. 

“I’m heading to the hills,” she’d informed Mrs. Denise after her mother swirled out of their lives again. 

The older woman harrumphed in disapproval, but grabbed a cloth sack off the counter, filling it with apples and cheese, fresh food to supplement the dried stores stocked in the cave. “Storm’s coming in.” 

“I’ll wear my boots.” Lucy smiled at the woman before turning the corner to head upstairs to change. 

“Take Jim,” came the terse reply. 

Dark clouds gathered in the distance, but her anger pressed her forward, letting the bite of the wind cool her temper. The storm intensified quicker than she’d expected and she was glad she’d listened to Mrs. Denise. Jim navigated the craggy paths that led up the side of the mountain with reliable ease. 

Maybe she’d get lucky and get snowed in until spring, she thought with a chuckle. She’d have no trouble surviving.

Not six months after Lucy’s arrival, the housekeeper turned mother insisted she stop moping about the castle and go into the hills until she could leave her melancholy behind. There was a deep cave up in the mountains they kept well stocked since travelers passed through there from time to time. At first Lucy’d thought the old woman had lost her mind. 

To her utter surprise, living in the woods had come as second nature to her. For a week she sat surrounded by the forest, unable to bury herself in the day-to-day minutiae of a life that slipped away with every menu she planned for the week ahead. Grief revealed itself in the silence. 

She’d come here often after that, trying to trace the source of the sadness through her life, but finding no answers to explain the feeling of devastating loss that haunted her. 

Dismounting, Lucy led Jim up the narrowing path, huddling into his neck as she pushed onward, winding through the firs, enveloped by the quiet. Her cave, just over the next rise, tucked into a small hollow that on a clear day looked out over the entirety of the valley below. She and the horse crested over the hill and the wind abated, buffeted by the sheltered cove.

Letting go of the reins, she grabbed for her pack, slinging it onto her back as she reached for the straps of the saddle to free the horse, allowing him to roam the small area. They’d come there together before and he wandered off in the direction of the small makeshift stall she’d built into the nook created by a large boulder to the left of the opening of the cave and the surrounding mountain. He’d come inside when he was ready. 

She dropped the saddle over a fallen tree trunk mostly covered by overhanging branches and ducked inside, crossing to the stockpile of firewood she’d gathered back in the early fall. 

She loved this secluded reprieve from the world. During the winter, when the snow covered the rocks and the waterfalls dangled precipitous icicles, she tended to stay inside the castle with its roaring fires, but it wasn’t likely she’d be back here anytime soon, if ever again. 

She’d miss it. 

Lucy collected kindling and arranged it inside the circle of stones. It took a couple strikes to her flint before it caught, but she blew the spark gently until the flames spread. She continued building the fire, relishing in the warmth, watching the dancing, arcing colors until light filled the main room of the cavern. Unrolling one of the blankets, she sat down and leaned against the wall, letting the heat wash over her, relaxing her muscles and closing her eyes. 

Garcia Flynn stood in the entrance to the cave, frozen by the vision of her. Lucy glowed in the firelight and he wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms. Wanted to crush her to his chest and just breathe in the scent of her knowing she was safe. But she had no memory of him. 

He wondered if maybe she dreamt of him sometimes. That somewhere, deep in her subconscious, she remembered their life, the family they’d started to build. 

“What are you doing here?” Lucy scrambled to her feet when his boot scuffled against several small pebbles.

So lost in reverie, he’d moved towards her without thinking. “I-- I--” 

“You followed me.” She stated the obvious, her body tense and ready to flee. 

Covering his discomfort with sarcasm, he retorted, “You were riding headfirst into a storm, I thought you might need my help.” 

Lucy snorted in derision, reaching for the knife strapped to her hip. “Well, as you can see, I do not. So you should head on back from whence you came.” 

He glanced over his shoulder at the howling mouth of the cave, whipping snow obscuring the view. “You can’t be serious?” 

“Absolutely.” She offered him a nonchalant shrug. 

He gaped back at her. “You don’t truly expect me to go back out in that?” 

She jerked her knife in the direction of the storm. “You found your way here, I’m sure you can find your way back out.” 

“Take pity on my horse, then,” he said, knowing that would stay the argument as Lucy wrestled with the guilt she’d feel sending a poor, defenseless animal out into the harsh elements. Ignoring her weapon, he took in the well-stocked cave. An old steamer trunk sat off to the left, topped by a hurricane lamp and covered by a folded plaid blanket. He smiled at the pile of books stacked atop another trunk on the other side of a small makeshift bed. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Surprised about what?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion at the abrupt change of subject. He was supposed to be leaving. 

“You’ve made it quite comfy here,” he explained without explaining. 

She refused his non-answer. “Why shouldn’t you be surprised, Flynn?” 

_I shouldn’t be surprised you see right through me_ , he didn’t say. Instead, “You have a way of making every space feel like home,” slipped out.

“A cave isn’t a home no matter how cozy,” she replied with more confidence than she felt, a flutter of memory brushing across her subconscious. 

“I beg to differ,” he muttered under his breath. When she raised her eyebrows, indicating he should repeat himself, he smiled and walked over to examine her stash of books. “Let’s just say, this is closer to the Lucy I know.” He risked a glance over his shoulder to see her loosen her grip on the knife by her side. “She’s quite impressive.” 

“Is that how you did it the first time?” She hesitated, deciding whether he posed an urgent threat, and then tucked her knife away.

Flynn dropped the book he’d picked up and turned to face her, studying the tight line of her eyes. “Did what the first time?” 

“Seduced me into falling in love with you,” she spat out, angry and suspicious. She might not feel the need to stab him immediately, but neither did she like the imbalance between them. He knew far more about her than she did about him. 

He focused on the flicker of hope he saw hidden behind her accusations. “I fell in love with you long before you succumbed to my charms.” 

“You fell in love and what? Lied your way into my heart when you decided you just had to have me?” 

Flynn crossed the space in three long strides, stopping himself before he swept her into his arms and kissed her into remembering. That only worked in fairytales. “I never once lied to you.” 

“You called me your wife.” She should be scared, but she felt no fear as he towered over her. Refusing to cede any ground, she raised her chin to meet his eyes. 

He stilled. “That was not a lie.” 

Unnerved by his absolute certainty, her emotions a twin to the storm raging outside, Lucy pushed him for answers. “Tell me how I lost my memory.” 

“I wish I knew.” He kept her gaze. There was something in his eyes. Open. Honest. Begging her to trust him. “I’d give anything to find out.” 

Confusion swirled inside her. Her mother’s words echoed in the back of her mind. Was Garcia Flynn a man who would sacrifice her to save himself? 

She lashed out, “Liar! You threw me down a flight of stairs so you could escape the castle.” 

“I would never harm you.” He stumbled back, reeling from the accusation. “Is that what you really believe?” 

She looked away into the flames. “I don’t know what to believe. It’s the only answer I’ve been given.” 

Sadness clung to her as she stared into the fire and Flynn’s fingers flexed at his side, empty and yearning to comfort her. “All I know is this. We had years together before your family’s soldiers forced you back to Maternavis. I tried to rescue you, but they expected me. 

When I finally escaped the dungeon, I fought my way to the tower where I’d been told they were keeping you. Two steps from the door an intense blast of magic knocked me backwards. By the time I entered the room, there was nothing there. It had all been a diversion to get you out of the castle.”

She wanted to believe him. “Do you have any proof of any of this? Or am I supposed to just accept what you’re telling me.” 

“I don’t. You kept a journal when we were together, but it disappeared when your family stole you away from me.” He took two deliberate steps towards Lucy and he caught her tiny intake of breath at his advance. “But I swear to you that I am not lying when I say you are Lucy Flynn, my wife and the love of my life.” 

“I would never take your surname,” she countered, arguing to ward off the pull she felt to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his scent of pine and wood smoke. She stepped away to sit on the log across from him. “I am not that kind of woman.” 

He crouched down, wanting to stay on her level, and picked up a stick to poke at the fire. “You weren’t when we met either.” 

“What changed?” she asked, full of skepticism. 

His answer, quiet with aching honesty, “We wanted to start a family and you wanted yours to have no claim on ours.”

“Please tell me I haven’t forgotten…” Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought that she was a mother who didn’t remember her child. 

Without thinking, she reached for him and he went to her, kneeling to take her hands in his. Flynn wished he could kiss the grief-stricken panic from her face. “No, but we hoped.” He wanted to give her something to smile about, adding, “You loved my daughter like your own.”

It had the opposite effect and Lucy stiffened. “What happened to her real mother?” 

“Nothing happened to her,” he started to explain as she pulled her hands from his. “I promise.” 

“Then how could I be your wife?” Lucy jumped up, skirting around to put the fire between them. She couldn’t think straight with him so close. 

Flynn tried to keep himself together, but her wariness ate at the hole in his heart that began to fill the moment he saw her again. “Lorena and I never married. She’s my best friend and we tried to make a go of it when we were younger. It’s what everyone around us expected, including the two of us. But it wasn’t ever right and we both knew it. Our time together gave us Iris and neither of us could ever regret her.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not normally this suspicious.” Tears crested her lashes and she scrubbed them away with the heel of her hand. “I hate this. I hate all of it.” 

“Lucy, stop.” He felt so useless, unable to offer her anything more than words that felt hollow with the distance between them. “I know who you are. I know everything about you.” 

She kicked at the ashes that spilled through the cracks between the stones. “I don’t know who or what to believe. My mother says you aren’t to be trusted, but when I look at you—“ 

Their eyes connected over the flames. 

“When you look at me, what?” Flynn’s breath stuck in his throat.

She rounded the fire, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. “It’s like some part of me remembers you.”

He trembled, afraid if he moved, he’d startle her and lose her gentle touch. The wind howled as she studied his face. “I’d give anything to bring back your memory.” 

“It’s your eyes,” she said as she traced the line of his cheekbone with her thumb. She rose on her tiptoes and stared into his eyes, seeing the forest at sunrise. “You saved me.” 

“From the fire?” he asked, not daring to believe otherwise. 

“From the river.” A sense of wonder crept over her. “It was you.” 

He reached up to cradle her face. “Are you remembering?”

“No. In my nightmares of drowning, you were there.” She reveled in the feel of his hands and closed her eyes. “I couldn’t ever remember your face, only your eyes.”

He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “That was the day we met.” 

She burrowed into him, his arms coming around her, tentative at first and then clutching her to him as if she might disappear again. They stayed that way for several long moments before Lucy whispered, “I wish I could remember us.” 

_Us, she’d said._ Flynn’s heart swelled, hope cracking free of its cage. No matter how long it took, they would find a way to get her memory back. And if they couldn’t? Well, she’d fallen in love with him once before. One way or another, they’d be a family again. 

“I have an idea.” It took all his willpower to release his hold on her, but he didn’t want her to feel trapped when he made the proposition. “But you’d have to trust me.” 

She stepped away, a guarded look creeping back into her eyes. “What’s your idea?” 

Butterflies darted around inside him, not wanting to push her, but willing to do anything to help the woman he loved. “I want to take you home.” 

“Home?” That one word knocked the wind from her. _Vitanavis was home. Wasn’t it?_ She studied the tiny pebbles at her feet, once again mourning her stolen life. 

Flynn shoved his hands into his pockets. “I think it might jog your memory and…” 

“And what?” She seized on the hesitation, expecting the worst. Years of court intrigue and tutelage under the capable hands of the Cahill Matriarch had taught her that trust was the business of fools. She’d let her guard down for a second, wanting to believe, now she’d pay the price. 

“I promised Iris I wouldn’t return without you.”

“Iris?” 

“My daughter.” 

“Yes. Your daughter.” 

Lucy sucked in a heavy breath. She couldn’t live like this. Seeing villains around every corner. What was she willing to risk for the truth? Flynn stood across from her, patient, willing to give her time to come to her own decision. Was he worth the risk? 

“How old is she?” 

“Who?” 

“Your daughter.” 

“Iris?” 

“Yes.” 

“She’ll be thirteen come the spring. She was eight when you disappeared. She still misses you.” 

Every nerve in his body thrummed in anticipation, praying she’d say yes. Selfishly, he just wanted his wife home and safe. He was sure that surrounded by their life together, she’d remember. If she saw what they were fighting for…“Please? It’s the only thing that’s mattered for the past five years. Finding you. Bringing you back to our family.” 

She had to choose to trust someone. Her mother had proven herself unworthy when she decided to keep what she knew about Lucy’s amnesia to herself. For five long years, the Queen had hidden her only daughter away in a castle high up in the mountains and wanted to marry her off, exiling her to a foreign land, all to keep her from finding out the truth.

Flynn, though? She raised her eyes to meet his and saw the hope he tried to hide. He’d saved her twice already, that she knew of anyway, and was offering her a chance to get her memory back. 

“I think I’d like that.” A fierce wind whipped between them and her horse Jim wandered in, covered in three inches of snow.

“After the storm passes, maybe,” he chuckled, trying to contain his obvious joy. 

_Happiness looked good on him._ “After the storm.” 


End file.
